Matt Whyman - The Savages

‘Ouch!’ said Vernon with a grimace. ‘Will you leave me alone?’

Ivan looked aghast.

‘But I killed you,’ he said. ‘You’re dead.’

‘And so are you when I’m free,’ growled Vernon, the foil crinkling wildly as he writhed and bucked against his bindings. ‘Help!’ He cried out, filling his lungs. ‘ Help me! ’

Panic-stricken, Ivan looked to the open hatch and back again at his captive.

‘Shut up,’ he said. ‘Shut your mouth or I’ll fetch my dad!’

‘ Help! Someone, please help! ’

It was all too much for the boy. Dropping the knife, he raced for the rungs as Vernon continued to raise the alarm. Even with the hatch back in place, and the pit returned to darkness, the stricken private investigator continued to bellow while the trough below him collected his blood drip by little drip.

Titus Savage sat in grave silence. Across the kitchen table, his wife and eldest daughter looked on uncomfortably. Only Katya remained her sunny self. At that moment, however, nobody paid her any attention.

‘Who is responsible for this?’ asked Titus eventually, his voice on the verge of cracking.

Angelica and Sasha exchanged a glance.

‘The boy I was seeing,’ said Sasha. ‘But it’s over now.’

‘I see.’ Titus furrowed his brow. ‘Couldn’t he have left you with something more traditional like a broken heart, maybe, or herpes?’

‘Titus!’ Angelica shot him a look. ‘Be civil. This isn’t easy for Sasha.’

‘It’s OK,’ Sasha cut in, and held her hands out to calm them both. ‘It was my decision to go vegetarian. Jack just introduced me to the idea, but this isn’t a question of who is to blame. It’s about understanding.’ She paused there and looked away for a moment. ‘Understanding and respect.’

‘What about respect for the family?’ Titus asked, and slammed his palm on the table. ‘You’re turning your back on a tradition that unites us in a shared secret. It grounds every one of us, so we can each make the most of our lives!’

‘And I’d still willingly take my place each time you sit down to feast,’ said Sasha. ‘I’ll just stick to the vegetables,’ she added quietly.

Titus scoffed dismissively.

‘My daughter, the grazer.’

‘There you go again,’ said Angelica with a sigh.

‘Belittling me won’t change my mind,’ said Sasha, in such a way that commanded her father’s attention. ‘This is who I am now, and I just feel better for it.’

Titus sat back in his chair, considering her.

‘What about the feast we had before Christmas two years ago?’ he asked. ‘You begged me to do the honours, and a very clean kill it was, too, but how does that sit with you, Sasha? Now that you’re better than us?’

‘Dad, I’m just trying to be true to myself. Isn’t that what you want for all your children?’

Just then, the back door crashed open. Nobody at the table looked around.

‘Help me out, Sasha,’ said Titus, sounding a little calmer. ‘I’m struggling here.’

It was Angelica who was first to look around as her son appeared before them. He looked wild-eyed and a little breathless.

‘Dad, I need your help.’

‘Not now.’ Titus kept his gaze locked on his eldest daughter.

‘But, Dad—’

‘I said not now !’

It was a sudden outburst, delivered with such force that everyone present shrank into themselves. The silence that followed was only broken when Katya started bawling.

‘Now look what you’ve done,’ muttered Titus, and rose to collect her from the floor. ‘Go to your room, Ivan. And just stay out of trouble!’

‘I just really think you need to—’ Ivan stopped short as his father turned and glowered at him. ‘Fine, then!’ he grumbled before heading for the stairs. ‘Don’t blame me if dinner is ruined!’

Soothing Katya in his arms, Titus stood by the French windows, overlooking the garden and the shed at the back.

‘It’s not too late to change your mind,’ he told Sasha. ‘You need to think long and hard about what this means for your family.’

Sasha waited for her father to face her before she replied.

‘Would you say the same thing if I had just come out as gay?’

‘Is that your next bombshell?’ asked Titus, and turned to Angelica.

‘Just answer the question,’ she said, folding her arms.

With Katya calm, Titus set her back down on the floor. He crouched there for a moment, offering one of her plastic bricks to play with. Finally, when he was sure of his composure, and that his voice wouldn’t crack, he rose up once again.

‘Of course I wouldn’t say the same thing. That would be different.’

‘So, would you rather I’d stayed quiet about going veggie?’ said Sasha. ‘This last month has been really tough. If it wasn’t for Mum’s support, I’d never be here now, being open about who I am.’

‘A month?’ Titus looked in astonishment at his wife.

‘Sasha needed time to work things out.’

‘I’m still a Savage, Dad,’ she said. ‘The only difference now is that I’m really happy being me.’

By now, there was nothing Titus could do to stop a tear from tracking down his cheek.

‘Then I’m happy for you,’ said Titus, and wiped it away with his shirt sleeve. From across the table, Angelica mouthed the words ‘thank you’ at him. ‘It seems I have a lot to learn from this,’ he added. ‘Perhaps I should follow your example.’

‘By giving up meat?’ asked Sasha, her mouth falling open.

‘Don’t push it,’ said Titus, and recovered with a grin. ‘I mean by being honest with myself.’

Angelica was still watching her husband closely.

‘Is there something you want to tell us?’

‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ said Titus, batting away the question. ‘I’m just feeling a little restless at work lately. Maybe I’ve been in the business for too long, but I’m starting to wonder if I should move on to new horizons. A challenge, perhaps.’

‘Like what?’ asked Angelica. ‘You’re a natural at what you do.’

‘I’ll think of something,’ said Titus, who turned just then to inspect the dishes on the counter behind him. ‘For now, whatever anyone chooses to pile on their plates, let’s focus on making this feast one of the best we’ve ever had!’

Without blinking, Ivan hammered at the trigger button on his handset. On the videogame in front of him, he was an effective killer. It helped him to block out what a mess he’d made of things in real life.

‘I’ll finish you,’ he muttered to himself, and not just to the women and children fleeing from the crosshairs of his gun. ‘You’ll see.’

A knock at the door drew his attention from the screen.

‘Are you looking for the bathroom again?’ he asked his grandfather.

‘I don’t need directions,’ said Oleg, and showed him the box of cutlery he’d finished polishing. ‘Look at that. All ready for the feast.’

‘Whatever.’ Ivan returned his attention to the screen.

Oleg watched him turn his sights on a fleeing crowd for a moment.

‘So, your father let you do the honours last night. Congratulations.’

Ivan unleashed a storm of bullets, cutting down dozens at a time.

‘The kill is still alive,’ he said simply. ‘And he won’t shut up.’

Oleg’s expression changed from concern to surprise.

‘But a kill is supposed to hang for twenty-four hours after death to improve the flavour.’ He checked his wristwatch. ‘We’ll be cooking shortly.’

‘I thought I’d finished him,’ complained Ivan. ‘Somehow he survived and now he’s making a big fuss.’

‘Does your father know?’